He hastily stepped to it, and opening it, said, "Mr.Wilson, one word more." The old gentleman entered again, and George, as before, locked the door, and then stood for a few moments looking on the floor, irresolutely.

At last, raising his head with a sudden effort--"Mr.Wilson, you have shown yourself a Christian in your treatment of me,--I want to ask one last deed of Christian kindness of you." "Well, George." "Well, sir,--what you said was true.

I _am_ running a dreadful risk.
There isn't, on earth, a living soul to care if I die," he added, drawing his breath hard, and speaking with a great effort,--"I shall be kicked out and buried like a dog, and nobody'll think of it a day after,--_only my poor wife!_ Poor soul! she'll mourn and grieve; and if you'd only contrive, Mr.Wilson, to send this little pin to her.

She gave it to me for a Christmas present, poor child! Give it to her, and tell her I loved her to the last.

Will you?
_Will_ you ?" he added, earnestly.
"Yes, certainly--poor fellow!" said the old gentleman, taking the pin, with watery eyes, and a melancholy quiver in his voice.
"Tell her one thing," said George; "it's my last wish, if she _can_ get to Canada, to go there.